Shortaki Week 2016 (for fun)
by smarty0007
Summary: Because everyone's doing it! :)
1. Chapter 1

**Notes:** So I had no idea about Shortaki Week until just now (coincidentally), but since all these awesome stories have been popping up, I got curious and then really excited to attempt something too. I'm probably not playing by the rules so this is just meant to be a fun tribute to all of you fellow fans out there who continue to inspire me to write. I know there are many variations on similar themes out there so I apologize if the stuff that comes out of my brain reflects anything that's already been posted. :)

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Thanks for reading!

 **Growing Pains/Fear/Window**

Helga looked at her reflection in the bus window. The sky was cloudy and an ugly gray, reflecting her mood that morning. With every pothole, her knees bumped painfully into the seat in front of her, and the squeaky springs poked her back ruthlessly. _Figures_. She knew she was tall, but to grow tall enough to never be comfortable on public transportation or airplanes ever again was not on her top ten list of lifetime achievements. Suddenly, her heart stopped as she realized she was being watched. No… _glared at._ She dragged her eyes from the window to the boy who had turned around in the seat in front of her.

"Helga—I know you can't wait to torture me, but this time, can you please wait 'til we get to school before you start kicking my seat?"

"Huh?" Helga internally slapped herself as she watched his eyes shoot downward towards her pale, ungainly legs. She almost cringed for fear of—what, she didn't know—and hastily tugged at her shrunken skirt in vain effort to cover herself better. "S-Shut up, you moron! Like I have nothing better to do than—"

"Oh… sorry… I—never mind."

A few stunned moments later, Helga did her best not to grin mercilessly at herself in the window. She chanced a curious peek at his own window-double ahead, slumped so far down in his seat his hair was no longer visible above the edge of the vinyl. She decided she would pen a name for that particular shade of pink that seared Arnold's face as his eyebrows shot up into his hairline before he'd turned back around.

 _Torture, indeed_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Correspondence/Choice/Out of Time**

"Wait! Harvey—"

Harvey looked up from the mailbox where he was kneeling to lock the door, turned to look at the desperately panting kid running up to him, blond hair wildly tangled—

"Well, if it isn't Miss Helga _Pataki_ , runnin' around the neighborhood in her PJs again," he laughed and shook his head at the one slipper she was wearing, "What—"

"No time to explain, Harv, got a huge favor to ask you—"

Harvey held out a hand to stop her and rolled his eyes, "Mmhm. What'd you decide _not_ to send him this time, girl?"

"Can I just," she panted, crouched, hands on her knees, "Oh c'mon! You know the drill!" And with that she'd deftly snatched his canvas bag and began to rifle through it, tossing envelopes willy-nilly over her shoulder and grumbling to herself.

"Uh, Helga."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I'm insane—" Yep, she looked it, too.

"Helga."

"It'll just take a minute—"

"Now look, you know yesterday's mail's been sent out already."

Helga's motions slowed like a coal train screeching to a halt. Harvey braced himself, hands over his ears.

Far, far away in a steamy jungle land, a blond teenager bolted upright in his bed in a cold sweat. "Hey Dad, did you hear something just now?"

"No, son, go back to bed."


	3. Chapter 3

**Magic/Consequences/Starlight**

"We have the moon, the stars…"

"Shut up, _bio-nerd_."

"Make Helga disappear… Make Helga disappear…"

"Arnold, w-what I'm trying to say…"

"You already ruined my last trick!"

"I think you're okay, too."

"I hate feeling mad and mixed up all the time!"

Helga woke with a start to a swirling nightmare and sat up to gasp out into the darkness. She rubbed her eyes and tilted her head back to look through the skylight at the faintly luminescent nighttime sky—wait— _skylight_? A form shifted sleepily next to her and she felt an arm wrap softly around her torso.

"Helga?"

"Dream."

"Mm. What about?"

"How I used to torture you." She flicked his ear. It wasn't a lie.

"Yeah…" his voice was pleasant. "Guess that's what you get for coming back home…" His arm tightened. "All those—guilty—feelings…"

"Can it, nerd."

"Make me."


	4. Chapter 4

**First Time/Countdown/Storm**

"Is-is this your first time? Doing… this?"

"Yeah." She looked awkwardly around the room, blinked. He wished he knew what she was thinking. She never was not thinking. Was she embarrassed?

"Mine… too."

"Really?" Her irises were the most vivid blue. He'd never seen them up this close, not since…

"Mmhm."

"No way." She snorted.

"You don't believe me?" He had the decency to look affronted.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, scrutinizing him, before she seamlessly switched tack. "Psh, doi… I believe you. You don't exactly strike me as the suave—"

"Hey, that's not fair. Speak for yourself."

"Yeah, yeah, Captain Obvious. Tell me something all you chuckleheads _don't_ know…"

He looked at her, really looked at her, and smiled the tiniest of smiles. She still didn't know.

She was rambling, "…a pro at the tango, logically it doesn't translate into—" her breath hitched.

"Shut up." It was barely a whisper, but he was so close she must have heard it.

"Oh…" Thunder pounded in his ears. He sensed her breathing quicken against him and felt her cheeks flush darkly in the dim light.

"You were saying?"

"N-nothing." Did she just _swoon_?

"Good."

In the background, the DJ was slowly counting down to the announcement of Prom King and Queen. Near the drink table, Rhonda primped her hair in the punch bowl reflection. Arnold continued slow-dancing with Helga, oblivious to the stares of their classmates.


	5. Chapter 5

**Murphy's Law/Karma/Gifts**

Great. Just _great_. Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse. Arnold stood in the middle of his childhood room, jaw clenched.

He'd checked under his couch, even tried to climb behind the wall to see if it had fallen back there. He froze when he heard his Grandpa shuffling around downstairs in the hallway, probably on his way to the bathroom. "Crazy kids, we're _old_ , not _deaf_ …"

He'd searched and searched but couldn't find it. His usually meticulously neat room was a disaster. _Where was it_?

"Gerald."

"S'up, man?" Gerald groaned on the other end of the line. "Do you _realize_ what time it is?" Arnold heard a smaller voice raised in question in the background. "It's just Arnold, Phoebe, go back to sleep."

Arnold gulped. "Don't tell Phoebe." He could almost hear Gerald raise an eyebrow. "But did you happen to notice if I left anything at your house yesterday… something, um… small?"

"Bro, you've got to be kidding me. How'm I gonna know what that means?"

"Gerald…" Arnold frantically dug through the bedsheets again. It _had_ to be here somewhere. Did it fall out of his pocket? "It's a… smallish box, and it's wrapped in brown paper… with… with a pink ribbon…"

"Oh… Oh _maaaaaaan_! No _way_! Are you serious?!" He wasn't sure if Gerald was laughing or crying.

Phoebe was definitely awake now, as she had snatched the phone.

"It's about damn _time_ , Arnold Shortman!" she screamed into the line. Her maniacal laughter echoed again in the background as Gerald's muffled voice bled through the pillow.

Karma. He shouldn't have made so much fun of them at their wedding. It was _her_ fault. She'd inspired him to veer into insanity that night. Oh… that night…

"Did you check your car?" Gerald was back to business.

The Packard... The last time he was in the Packard… he flushed.

"Gotta go, Gerald."

It was cold in the garage. It wasn't there. He could have sworn it probably fell out of his pants then… as he wasn't technically wearing them at the time.

There wasn't anything left to do but to retrace his steps to the park.

Gifts. Plain boxes.

He'd known she was the one who'd said it, eventually. She never actually confessed to him, but somehow he knew.

He slowed when he neared his favorite bench—their bench—and grinned.

She looked down at the tiny box in her lap and then back up at him.

"So when were you gonna ask me, you loser? Are you really this sadistic to let our dear, poor, Phoebe suffer this long?"

"Huh?"

"You know, Pheebs. Psycho. Wedding. Planner."

"Oh yeah, that."

"You know it's going to be the best day of her life."

"Really? You mean better than her _own_ wedding?"

"Doi. Naturally."

"I don't _get_ you."

"Yeah you do." She was slowly pulling the knot loose. Reverently peeling the paper back. He stood there, hands in his empty pockets, and marveled that he didn't even have to ask her, as she slid his grandmother's ring onto her finger. He didn't care.

He offered her an arm. "Wanna go throw rocks in the river?"

"Whatever floats your boat."


	6. Chapter 6

**Travelling/Carpe Diem/Rain**

They pulled into the driveway, the windshield wipers sluggishly scraping across the aged glass of the Packard.

"Where are… oh…"

He turned off the engine and sat there, looking at her.

She crossed her arms. Angry. With herself. For being angry.

What a surprise…

She opened her mouth. Then closed it.

"It's okay, Helga. You don't have to say it."

"Say what?"

"That you…" he fell silent, twiddled his thumbs and glanced up at the house.

She crossed her legs as well and slid sideways to lean against the door. "Enlighten me."

"That you'd rather be anywhere else than here, again. With me."

She glared at him.

He sighed dejectedly. Almost… theatrically. What was he trying to pull?

"I mean… just because you couldn't stand me last time, doesn't mean we can't get along this time right?"

She waited, eyes wide.

"I know you hate swimming. And sand. And sunburn. And you only helped me with that sandcastle contest just to be nice…"

Helga rolled her eyes. The sun was peeking out from behind the cloud. She huffed impatiently.

"Carpe diem, Hair-Boy. Let's go."

Arnold laughed and chased after her.


	7. Chapter 7

**Family/Secrets/Role Reversal**

"I'm going to let you in on a little family secret, dear." She set her teacup gently into its saucer and lightly smacked her lips.

"Oh yeah? Enlighten me, sister…"

"Oh, my. I always wished I had a sister…" She laughed a wonderful, full-throated laugh and sighed fondly. "But Mitzi was the best substitute, I suppose." Her tone snapped from reminiscent to business-like abruptly. "Now, Eleanor, I know you've been conspiring for _years_ to get into young Franklin's pants—"

Helga viscerally spit out whatever she'd been chewing on but started to choke anyway. Her companion watched with folded hands and a stern, yet kind, countenance.

"You're going to have to have better manners than that at this table, young lady," Bwana fished out a dishtowel from somewhere and tossed it to her companion. "But considering the circumstances, I'll let this one fly—"

"What makes you think—that—that—I mean, like _I_ would want to—"

"Shh, now. Phil and I aren't _blind_ , dear, we know what goes on under this roof."

"But we haven't, he doesn't—" She got a grip on herself and passed a shaky hand over her eyes, "Just hold the phone, G., he doesn't even _like-me like-me_ —"

"Ah, is that what the kids are calling it these days? Well, missy, I'll have you know I'm a modern woman and I'm still sharp as a tack. So when you two finally figure it out, be a sweetheart and try not to wake us when you're sneaking into the house. I'll have to talk to Phil about fixing that old rusty fire escape—ah yes…." Gertie cast around for her notepad.

"Oh and for goodness' sake, be _smart_. But I don't have to tell you that—from what I hear, you're in a league of your own." She chuckled and pulled the pencil from behind her ear to jot down a quick note as the chair across from her violently scraped across the linoleum.

"Leaving so soon? Here, I'll wrap you some biscuits. I won't take no for an answer, El', you've got to put some meat on those bones—what do they _feed_ you in those barracks—" She tsk'ed and bustled around the tiny kitchen, grabbing scones and a few donuts with the little sprinkles her young companion was so very fond of—"Oh _Mr._ Roosevelt, there you are, we were just talking—"

Arnold stood in the doorway, dumbfounded. He stared at the young woman frozen in the middle of his kitchen.

"Um, hey Helga."

"Arnold." She nodded savagely at him as she elbowed past him and out the door.

"Kimba, dear, have a seat. It's just as well…" his grandmother shook her head. "Phil's terrible at this kind of thing." Gertie busied herself making another pot of tea. "Why, in my day, we just came right out and _said_ things—you'd think we were back in the Cold War, with all this spy nonsense and talking around the issue—did we fight the good fight for _nothing_ , I tell you—"


	8. Chapter 8

**Regret/Eyes/Creator's Choice**

"Why did it take me so long to tell you?" she mused aloud.

"You mean, tell me _again_?"

She squinted at him.

"And _again_ for the third time? You know, after the first two times?"

Her eyes narrowed even further.

"It's really me who took too long."

"Mm." She kicked a pebble off the dock. Her hands nestled in her pockets.

"Do you… regret… choosing me?" He reached out and touched her elbow. He winced when she turned to him.

"Why would you say something like that?" Her eyes were fiery in the setting sun.

"You couldn't have been happy to wait for me to catch up to you."

"If anything, you should regret…"

"What?"

"…settling for… me…"

"Settling? Helga, don't be ridiculous. Look at you."

"Yeah. Look at me…" she kicked languidly at another pebble.

"I waited forever for you to… tell me again. I was just too afraid you'd…"

She snapped her head up to look at him.

"…changed your mind."

She pulled him down slowly with her onto the edge of the dock. "All right, spill it."

"Spill what?" He laughed quietly.

"We all know you're dying to confess some huge revelatory secret so let's get it over with." She was smirking.

He sighed. "I love you Helga."

"…"

"Helga?"

"Say it again."

"Are you… is that a _tear_ I see?"

"We Patakis don't _cry_. I've got allergies. Say it again."

"I love you Helga."

"Again."

He wrapped an arm around her thin frame and rested his head against her shoulder. He'd fallen in love with her on this pier a long time ago, and now he'd finally told her.


	9. Chapter 9

**Note:** Had to add another one! This is so much fun!

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing. Thanks for reading!

 **Murphy's Law/Karma/Gifts (2)**

All those years she had fruitlessly schemed and plotted and tore her hair out to get to this point, and now she would rather the earth swallow her up than sit here in this uncomfortable silence. Well… it wasn't completely silent. Creepy flute music seeped out of a speaker nearby.

Her companion didn't look so happy himself, arms crossed and body almost completely turned away from her. Her heart shuddered. It was too dark to get a good read on his face, but her guess was accurate. It was frustrated.

He huffed again ( _like a child, criminy_ ), and she rolled her eyes. Their first actual time together on this thing and she'd already managed to screw it up yet _again_.

"Guess I unloaded that one too soon. I thought you _like_ it when I'm honest with you…"

His shoulders slumped.

"I mean, of my innumerable attractions and attributes, you'd think that goody-goody _truthfulness_ would be on the bottom of the totem pole, but _nooooo_ , that's the deal-breaker—guess that's what I get for trying to level with you—"

She had his attention now. She elbowed him roughly in the side and quirked an eyebrow.

"Well, are we just gonna sit here and be pissed at each other for the next 15 minutes, or are—"

"I can't _believe_ you did that Helga." He whipped his face around. "I mean, somebody could've been _hurt_!" He ran his hands through his hair.

"Hey, hey, hey! _I_ didn't know the plan would turn out so…" she knew he knew she was about to say "well" but the glare he shot her cut her statement short. "Look, I said I was _sorry_."

"Like I can believe that." He shrugged and blinked curiously at her. "You know… now that I think about it, a lot of things have gone horribly wrong over the years—you wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

"Uh…" She eased a finger between her shirt collar and neck, where a slight sweat broke out. "Nope, it's a mystery. Searched my soul, can't think of anyth—"

"You mean, you don't know _anything_ , not even one little detail, about the tilt-o-whirl incident of ninety—"

"Heh, oh yeah, didn't somebody puke on that thing?" she strangled out a laugh. "Man, I heard that was a _nightmare_ to clean up." Her eyes frantically searched over the edge for an escape route. No dice.

He continued, ticking a list on his fingers, "Or when those poor kids flew a bumper car into a food truck—"

"Hm, never heard of that one. Must've been some other Cheese Festival. Woo, boy, is it hot in here?" Ironically a cool mist chose just then to spray around a nearby bend.

"You know, I remember you came to school with a neck brace that Monday. What a strange _coincidence_."

"It's none of your _beeswax_ how—"

"Helga, what did you do this year?"

"Huh?" She sat up straighter.

"Should we be worried that this boat is going to careen into a rock at any moment?" He suddenly leaned over the edge and looked for anything suspicious. She gripped the burnished-smooth edge of her own side as the boat sloshed dangerously.

"Doi, of course not! What do you think I am, some kind of serial killer?"

Arnold gave her a hard look and then burst into a roiling fit of laughter. "Tell me again why you did it!"

"I told you I was only going to say it once."

"But it's fun to hear. Come on, tell me again. It's just between you and me…"

She mumbled something inaudible.

"What was that?"

"I said… I was… _jealous_."

"Of _Lila_?"

"Yes, of Lila! There, I said it! Happy?"

"Maybe." He chuckled gently.

Helga slumped in the splintery seat.

"Oh come on, Helga, we were in the fourth grade. We were stupid kids."

"Stupid, huh?" There was no fire to this quiet statement.

"Okay, not stupid. Just… _young_. Naïve…"

"Mm."

"Silly. Petty. Murderous—hey!"

She'd grabbed him by the shirt collar. Her eyes glinted in the dim reflections of the water.

"Say that again. I _dare you_."

Arnold gulped.

Then— _kkkggggllll—_ the boat came to a clanking halt and they banged their shoulders on the front lip.

"Criminy!"

"I can't believe it—you really did—"

"It wasn't _me_ this time, I'm _in_ the boat, Einstein!"

"Where's Phoebe?"

"Please. She's not that easily corruptible anymore…. What?"

"Whatever you say, Helga."

"I mean it! Trust me, if it'd been me, the whole thing would've backfired a long time ago."

"Okay, okay." Arnold put his hands up in surrender. "I believe you. Don't worry, we'll be out of here in no time, I'm sure."

"Remember that time you got stuck on the Dino-Land roller coaster?"

"Oh… yeah…" The artificial cave behind them echoed with a few falling water droplets.

"Well, I think I have an idea that'll make this disaster worth our while. C'mere, lover boy…"

"Helg—"

Deep in an antechamber hidden by the fake rocks and garish electric hearts, a bespectacled teenager let out a breathy chuckle and released his hold on the giant emergency lever. He stuck his hands in his pockets as he strolled leisurely back towards the fairgrounds.


	10. Chapter 10

**Family/Secrets/Role Reversal (2)**

"Candy bars... chocolate pudding… barbecue ribs? What is all this stuff?"

"I need these. Make room."

"Helga, you have to eat fruits and vegetables too."

"Rabbit food."

"Wait a minute. How did that song go again? _Weeeee're_ —"

"Don't you dare—"

"— _fruits, we're fruits_ —"

"Quit it!"

"But I thought you _liked_ bananas."

"Quit looking at me like that, you creep!"

"How did you survive back in—"

"By eating what I want, that's how! The _point_ is, there's no way we're going to eat all this watermelon. Shove over."

"Hey, if you can get this junk, I can have one watermelon. Now that I think about it, watermelon would probably be good for... _you know_..."

"S-shut up! There are _people_ here!"

"All I'm saying is, if I have to give up strawberries to live with you, you can deal with one watermelon."

"You used to complain all the time about watermelon—oh, Arnold, I..."

"It's okay..."

"Here. We'll get you another one."

"No, it's—"

"I'll cut it up tonight."

"But—"

"We'll have the second one for next week. End of story. Capiche?"

"Fine, whatever you say..."

"C'mere you goofwad..."

"Um... by the way, I think your favorite ice cream might be back in stock."

"Okay, I'll meet you—hey! You weren't going to tell me!?"

"Love you."

"Come back here, you—you duplicitous—moronic—health freak—"


End file.
